


Never Again

by TabbyCat33098



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angsty Schmoop, Fluff, Gen, POV First Person, Post Reichenbach, Reunion Fic, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-26
Updated: 2013-06-26
Packaged: 2017-12-16 06:30:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/858938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TabbyCat33098/pseuds/TabbyCat33098
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You stand in front of me with that smug smirk gracing your face, fully expecting, I'm sure, for me to welcome you back with open arms. But I can't. Not yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Again

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Benedict Cumberbatch's birthday last year, but published on Martin Freeman's birthday, and long story short I really love this pairing. Expect more works written for them. Reviews, as always, are as precious as cookies. And cake. Happy reading! :)

You stand in front of me with that smug smirk gracing your face, fully expecting, I'm sure, for me to welcome you back with open arms. To forget that the last three lonely, painful years never happened. To forget that three years ago today, you tricked me into believing you were dead. Forget that I've spent three years feeling like my heart was ripped from my body.

But I can't. Not yet. Because those three years did happen, whether I wanted them to or not. I spent day after day  _after day_  working to fight the infamy that surrounded your name. I tried to beat off the lies that had been spread that you were a fake, even though you told me to inflame them.

Now I see you told the biggest lie of all.

_How could you do that, I was worried sick, I thought you were gone, dead, vanished from my life, you caused me so much pain, why would you do that to me, why, why_

I begin to yell at you, blaming you for all the pain and suffering I went through and interspersing my rant with swear words of varying intensity. Eventually, my fist come into play as well, repeatedly thumping your chest to emphasize what I'm saying, and finally,  _finally,_  that infuriating smirk falters. My rant devolves into a streaam of curse words, and tears spring unbidden to my eyes, and I think you, who understands next to nothing about emotions, begin to understand the magnitude of your actions.

_Damn you, curse you, sod off, you horrid bloody wanker, tosser, git_

I vandalized bathroom stalls, benches, bus stops, writing "I believe in Sherlock Holmes" and "Moriarty was real." For months, I fought alone to give you the honor you deserved. ANd it paid off. The people of London took up their own pens, and continued what I had started. Slowly but surely, we began to win the war.

You must have noticed that once more, people began to believe in you. You must have seen the writing, the billboards, the posters. You must have noticed that even the press began to question if you were truly a fake. And yet, you let me struggle. You let me believe that you were gone forever.

_I became a common criminal, I vandalized bathrooms, I fought a war alone, and all for you, you ungrateful bastard_

The tears spill over as my fists come to a halt, and I lean forward to lay my head on your chest, trapping my fists between us. I stop yelling at you and let my tears soak your chest, needing nothing more than to get those painful feelings off my chest. Tentatively, your arms come up and slowly wrap around me, as if you're unsure of yourself. And as I melt into your embrace, you tighten your grip, as if to hold me forever.

Eventually, my eyes run dry, and my own arms wrap around you, trying to convey the message of  _Never leave me again, don't cause me that pain, please_  because I don't think I could bear it, not a second time. We stand in silence for seconds, days, years, because it doesn't matter, nothing matters, other than the fact that you're back.

And that is when I realize that even after all of  _this_ , I can't remain angry at you. Even when you put me through so much pain that I wanted to die, I can't hold a grudge against you. You mean too much to me. I smile sadly, and I know you understand.

_Welcome back_

Because damn you, Sherlock Holmes, I need you.

**FIN**


End file.
